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Monday, May 13, 2013

I've lived my life in fits and starts. I've jumped into things with both feet only to pull out before my feet hit the water. Sometimes, I would wade around in the shallow end for a while before deciding the water was too cold, too hot, too watery, too wet. I would get out never to return again.

I've started things for the wrong reason. Everyone else was doing it. I thought it would make me popular, prettier, thinner, happier, something. I was lured by the shiny, not knowing that real work lay beneath the pretty exterior. The work, the effort, the monotony, the tedium always turned me off.

Earlier this year I started again. It was a nice day, warm and sunny when I had forgotten what warm and sunny looked like. It was an exercise day but instead of hitting the elliptical at the gym, my body itched for something different. So I laced up my shoes, turned on some tunes and ran.

I've run before. Couch to 5K, an ill-fated attempt to train for a triathlon (really?!?) were started and stopped. I've run races, at least one per year for the past few years. One and that was it.

But this time was different. I felt the difference from the first run. I felt good, happy, euphoric. I felt the rush of endorphins I had heard so much about. I felt strong. So I did it again and again. I felt happier, stronger.

On an endorphin high I decided to sign up for a race on Mother's Day. I did not immediately regret the decision as I might have in the past. Instead I trained.

The race was yesterday. I woke up happy. I had a spring in my step.

As I stood at the starting line and looked around at the 400 plus women, I fought this overwhelming urge to cry. But it was not a desire born out of fear, nerves or panic. I was ready to breakdown and cry huge, ugly tears of joy. I knew I was meant to do this.

I was happy. I ran and it made me happy. I had done this because I wanted to. It was for me and me alone.

I might have walked more than I wanted too. I might have been passed by women in their 70s and girls in their teens. But I ran and I finished.

3 comments:

I have run 3-4 times a week since the middle of March. It's strange that I love it. But somehow I do. Even though I run slow, even though I only run for 20 minutes at a time and even though I am not planning on training for anything. I just plain found my thing.